


Dust Under Brightness

by TheScarletGarden



Series: Drabbles & Short Stories [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, Jon Snow is Not a Targaryen, Jon Snow is a Sand, Jonerys, Jonerys Unites, Loss of Virginity, Rhaegar Lives, Smut, Teen Romance, You're Welcome, a feast of sappy tropes basically, and also a knight, and needing handsome knights to protect their running hides, beautiful princesses making reckless decisions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2019-07-17 06:04:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16089572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheScarletGarden/pseuds/TheScarletGarden
Summary: Kingsguard Jon Sand escorts Princess Daenerys Targaryen on a perilous journey.





	1. Dust Under Brightness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starkgaryen4life](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkgaryen4life/gifts).



> Written for my friend Starkgaryen4life, who donated to the Jonerys Unites charity initiative. ♥
> 
> My neverending gratitude to LustOnMyFingers, who provided the beautiful moodboard as well as her invaluable support. I would still be stuck at page 12 if it wasn't for you, babe. ♥
> 
> Betaed by my guardian angels, LustOnMyFingers and Enygma0710.

 

_The youngest Kingsguard since Jaime Lannister._

It had a nice ring to it, Jon thought proudly as he polished his armour, making sure it would shine like molten silver under the scorching sun of King's Landing. His lady mother had looked so proud, violet eyes glinting with unshed tears. "You've grown up so much, my son," Ashara had said.

His thoughts were stopped by a sudden knock on the door. “Enter,” he called.

A young handmaiden stepped in, her dark hair bound in a tight braid. “Princess Daenerys is requesting for your presence, Ser.”

Now that was quite unusual. The hour was late, and the Princess almost never spared him a glance, let alone requested his presence in any form.

“Of course. Tell her I'll come immediately,” he murmured, standing up and dressing in his armour. He donned the white cloak over his shoulder, then made for the Princess' quarters with haste.

The Princess sat at a small round table, nibbling at a bowl of fresh exotic fruit, a light purple silk dress of Dornish inspiration wrapping her curves like a second skin. Not for the first time, Jon had to force himself not to stare dumbly at her. She was breathtakingly beautiful, arguably the most beautiful woman Jon had ever seen. He fought back that dangerous train of thoughts and focused on his manners.

“Did you call for me, Your Grace?” he asked, bowing.

“Yes, Ser. Please, sit.” She waited for him to get comfortable, then continued, “I am in need of an escort for my imminent journey North. My brother the King has appointed me on a diplomatic mission at the Wall.”

“At-at the Wall, Your Grace?” he stuttered. Despite her young age, it wasn't too unusual for her to take care of some minor issues around Westeros, and she had already been that far North once before. Her brother the King seemed to be doting a lot on her political savviness, teaching her from a young age and trusting her counsel definitely more than that of their brother Viserys. Still, it did seem weird, as she was usually escorted by more experienced knights, Ser Barristan being her favourite escort.

“Yes, Ser Jon. While it's usually my brother that keeps relations with the Night's Watch, he's been very busy with the preparations for the tourney, as of late.” She paused to take a sip from a golden goblet, the three-headed-dragon sigil glinting in the braziers' light. “And my great-uncle Aemon, who's Maester at the Wall, wishes to see me. That's why I'm taking care of this mission, Ser. Will you escort me?”

“Oh... Of course, Your Grace, but... wouldn't it be better to have a more numerous escort, my Princess? The travel to the Wall is long and perilous, and I'm sure the King would be able to spare more than one Kingsguard for your protection, Your Grace.”

The Princess looked at him for a long moment, narrowing her eyes slightly. She looked annoyed, and he had to swallow a lump of discomfort in his throat. She took a few more sips from her goblet, then spoke again, her voice hard as steel: "This mission requires absolute secrecy, Ser Jon. That's why I can't have a more consistent escort, or can't require the services of such a known face like Ser Barristan, for example. I can easily disguise myself if needed, but it's better if the person accompanying me isn't so recognizable." She paused, throwing him a glance full of such resolution he had to keep himself from fiddling under her fiery gaze. "Will you keep faith to your vows and serve House Targaryen in this, Ser?"

“Of course I will, Your Grace,” he promised, resolute. “I'm here to serve you.”

“Good. We will depart in the morning, Ser. I do recommend maximum secrecy in this. The Red Keep's walls have ears, too, and we have reason to fear some of them might not be completely loyal, so we must be careful.” She paused, seeming to consider him for a long minute before speaking again, almost as an afterthought, “We also don't want to burden my brother the King with this task, as he already has so many things to think about.”

“Of course.”

“We'll meet tomorrow at dawn outside the White Sword Tower. You're dismissed.”

* * *

He was a broody fellow, this Jon Sand. Unusual, for a Dornishman, she mused, pursing her lips as she considered her choice. He was of an age with her, just slightly older, a lean youth with a shocking head of curly black hair and stormy grey eyes, a short beard gracing his tanned, handsome face.

 _Quite the waste, as a Kingsguard_ , she thought to herself, an amused smile on her lips.

For all his handsomeness, he looked gloomy and stiffly honour-bound in his manners, not quite the same as those of his more relaxed uncle, Arthur Dayne.

The rumours were that his father was a Northman, some said he would be Lord Stark in person or even his late brother, but as for that, Ashara Dayne had never publicly admitted to his identity. _It would explain a lot, though..._

He was just what she needed. Reliable, honourable, his swordsmanship swift and true, as one would expect from a descendant of the legendary Sword of the Morning. He was a bit naive, too, if Ser Barristan's judgement was to be believed. And no one was to be trusted more than her old good Ser.

Young, inexperienced.

_Deceivable._

Downing the remnants of her goblet, she stood to begin her preparations. She would have to pack lightly, and smartly, and forgo the help of her handmaidens. Her freedom depended on this. 

* * *

At dawn, Jon was waiting, his horse ready and a lighter boiled leather armour hidden beneath a dark cloak. _Maximum secrecy, she said_. He tried to flatten the frown that erupted on his face with scarce results. It all looked a bit weird, but it wasn't his place to question the Princess. He took vows to serve House Targaryen and the royal family, and Jon took his vows very seriously.

“You're punctual. I appreciate it,” he heard her whisper at his back, startling him in a gasp. The Princess was clad in a cloak that covered her from head to toe, in her hands the reins of a black mare, saddled and charged with a few satchels. She was alone.

“Is everything all right, Ser?” she asked pointedly when she noticed his staring.

“Oh... yes, yes. But... wouldn't be more... prudent, if you had a few more guards in your escort? Even a common knight-”

“We travel light, Jon Sand. Besides, I have no doubt that the nephew of the Sword of the Morning will be more than adequate in protecting me.”

“Of course,” he muttered under his breath.

She was a bit vexing, her steely manners a far cry from those of the King, or even the rest of the royal family. _Well, except for Prince Viserys. But she can't possibly be as bad as him_. He very much hoped she wouldn't be. The travel to the Wall would last at the least three moon turns, and having good company could make the difference between a bearable journey and a total nightmare. Sighing, he made his horse follow the Princess, who had started off at a brisk pace.

* * *

Just as she imagined, Jon Sand wasn't really the talkative type.

However, she couldn't have ever imagined that he would be so _curious_.

His questions were few enough, and more calculated than not, but he had a way of looking at her – _looking right through her_ – when she dismissed and deflected his queries. It was unnerving, disquieting, dangerous even. She hid her annoyance under a stern facade, smoothing her face when she would be scowling, shrugging away his observations as if they weren't important.

As if he didn't sense that something was wrong.

Patches of heavy silence stretched throughout the day, and she tried to distract herself by observing their surroundings: the sunlight barely filtered through the thick canopy of the woods, the dark green leaves of late summer casting an otherworldly eeriness on their path. At times, the foliage opened up enough to let in splashes of golden light, in which the dust danced in twirls. In the most shadowy spots, moss covered the trunks of the trees, and they could hear the rustle of leaves at the passage of squirrels over their heads. It was beautiful, somehow managing to quell her worries, the song of the birds a music too joyous to keep her frown in place all day.

“Princess, look!” her escort suddenly whispered, gently taking hold of her elbow and nodding in the right direction. “An ermine.”

It was a fleeting sight, the lithe animal scurrying down an oak and quickly disappearing in the undergrowth. Still, it filled her heart with a childish glee, a beaming smile spreading on her face. “It's beautiful,” she murmured back.

They kept staring with bated breath at the point the ermine disappeared for a long moment, until he nudged his horse ahead, and the spell was broken.

* * *

"It is near dusk, my Princess. We should find an inn," he suggested at the end of their first day of travel. They hadn't talked much, not that he really expected it, but what confused him more was how the Princess made them walk far from the road, in between fields and woods, only a map to help their orientation.

He tried to ask the reason why. “I'm afraid of thieves,” she answered. It didn't make much sense, but the scorching look she threw him was enough to make him shut his mouth.

“We will make camp.”

"What? Princess, it will be cold at night. There are animals, and _people_ who could-”

“ _We will make camp_ ,” she glared.

Suppressing a huff, he collected some wood while she tied their horses to a nearby low branch. She had packed smartly and brought food for the both of them. Jon worked on the fire, then they ate in silence, bread and cheese and dried meat washed down by a flagon of wine. They didn't talk much, at first, but then she asked about his childhood at Starfall, about his family.

Tentatively, he told her what she wanted to know, of his mother, of his uncle, of growing up a bastard in the tolerant Dorne and how different it was from King's Landing.

“Why did you become a Kingsguard?”

“I wanted to be like my uncle,” he said. “He's the best man I know.”

She nodded, looking intently at him. “He's a great man, it's true,” she finally smiled. “Did he train you?”

He nodded. "He did. He can be a bloody nightmare if he wants, but he's also the best teacher a swordsman could wish to have." He watched her as she tried to discreetly yawn, the late hour clearly wearing on her. "But this is a story for another time. Sleep, Princess. I'll take guard."

* * *

A sennight had passed, and her back ached like all seven hells. Propelled by the fear of being followed, of being reached by the search parties her brother _must_ have sent on her tracks by now, she had set a punitive pace on herself and her sullen companion, stopping only to make camp at night.

Being horseback so many hours a day was a torture she hadn't expected at first, her muscles screaming in pain, the skin of her tights feeling raw and blistered even through the fine riding leathers she wore under her commoner's dark blue dress.

Sleeping on the ground at night didn't help much, only some horse-smelling woollen blankets in between the hard, uneven earth and her aching body. In the mornings, she woke up as tired as the moment she lied down at night, her bones suffering from the humidity of the woods. Jon kept casting sympathetic glances at her, even as she refused to complain out loud of the woes of travel. He distracted her with stories of his childhood, the silly games he played with the other children back in Dorne, the time he went with his lady mother to the Water Gardens, the fabled heroics of his uncle Arthur Dayne he grew up admiring. His voice was low and soothing, so pleasant it lulled her to sleep most nights.

He sang to her, at times, a fierce blush taking hold of his face as he did. He had a pleasant voice, although his shyness made it waver a bit. That night, he sang for her _My Featherbed_. She was already tucked under her blanket, the fire crackling merrily as he sang, sat with his back against a large tree. He held the scabbard of his sword on his lap and tapped the rhythm on it, slow and calming.

_I'll always keep you warm and safe,_

_and guard you with my sword._

_And how she smiled and how she laughed,_

_the maiden of the tree._

She felt herself smile as she groggily observed him with half-lidded eyes, sleep slowly claiming her despite her sore body.

_She spun away and said to him,_

_no featherbed for me._

_I'll wear a gown of golden leaves,_

_and bind my hair with grass,_

_But you can be my forest love,_

_and me your forest lass._

She dreamt of him, that night.

Her knight's beautiful face was bathed in the firelight as he sang her a million songs, smiling back at her softly, so softly. The song was so sweet it made her weep, and he dried her tears away with gentle thumbs, cradling her face in his hands like she was the most precious thing in the world. 

* * *

On the tenth day of travel – the Princess set up a fast pace that he definitely wasn't expecting from her – they finally ran low on provisions.

“We should really find an inn,” he suggested, hoping for a bath, a real bed and a warm hearth.

“Can't you hunt?” she asked, looking nervous. It was incredibly irksome when she acted all bossy like this, her unrealistic demands starting to take a toll on his mood.

“Uh? I'm sorry, Princess, but I don't even have a bow, only my sword. How am I supposed to do that?” he inquired, eyebrows frowning.

They had just passed Harrenhal, the journey before them still long and unpredictable. They could really use some rest, he thought.

The Princess seemed to truly consider it too, for the first time since they departed the Red Keep, a frown on her beautiful face, tired eyes calculating their options in silence. “We could... find an inn, yes. A small one, better if it's not directly on the road,” she conceded. “But we'll have to be careful, use different names. You can't use my titles, nor my name.”

“How should I call you, then?”

“Dany will do.”

“ _Dany_...” he tasted it with his tongue. A short, sweet name that unexpectedly suited her. “Will I have to change name, too?”

“Jon is a common enough name,” she shrugged, unfolding their map to check where the nearest village would be. 

* * *

They took separate chambers, as propriety recommended. As she turned in her bed, relishing in the feeling of a real mattress after nights spent on the cold, humid ground, Daenerys couldn't help but feel uncomfortable.

The possibility of being caught during her reckless escape still haunted her thoughts, fear taking hold of her as soon as she found herself alone and with nothing to do but sleep, choking her heart like a vise and making her breath ragged. A part of her wanted to go back home, to fling her arms around her brother's neck and beg his forgiveness for her foolhardy actions. To accept her duty with gracious dignity, just to see the rare smile of the brother that had been more of a father to her again. It would be so easy, so secure. A predictable, honourable life, doing what was expected from her.

The other part of her, the wild, willful dragon in her blood, recalled the arrogant grin of her intended and almost grimaced in disgust. He would never really respect her, she knew, never recognize anything in her apart from her youth and beauty, and her ability to bear him sons. As a princess of royal blood, she had always known that her marriage would be decided by others and didn't worry too much about it until she came of age and actually knew who her husband would be.

An arrogant prick who looked at her like she was a trophy. It made her sick, the sudden feeling that the happy part of her life was soon to be over hit her like a hammer on an anvil.

it was then she chose to escape, but at what cost? She had to relinquish her family, her easy life, to gain her freedom and the omnipresent sense of impending doom it came along with. It was a strange thing, to be completely in charge of her own life, alone save for a brooding knight she deceived into protecting her running hide.

What had she done to him?

As guilt and fear raged a fiery storm inside her and made her sob into the dusty pillow, Dany couldn't help but long for his voice to soothe the tempest of her lonely heart.

* * *

She was hiding her tell-tale silver hair under a brown scarf all the time, her cloak constantly pulled over her face. By the end of the seventeenth day, Jon was sure she had lied to him about the reason for their journey.

She hadn't quite looked at him in the eye since they started sleeping at inns at night instead of making camp. Her shoulders sagged, her teeth often worrying her lower lip as she brooded around on her mount, he had tried to talk to her, to understand what was wrong.

She looked torn, her fugitive eyes roaming restlessly to anywhere but his face, her sentences clipped even as the tone of her voice seemed softer than usual.

He wasn't sure how to feel about it. Her nervousness worried him, a pang of sympathy in his chest as her watchful gaze surveyed the common hall of yet another inn along the road.

Jon had no idea how to broach the topic.

“This stew is delicious,” she muttered after a while.

“It is,” he confirmed easily. “Much better than the last place we stopped at.”

“By the gods, that was terrible!” she smiled. _Finally_. It lit up her entire face, a flash of white teeth and alluring little dimples on her cheeks that made his stomach knot uncomfortably. “I don't even want to know _what_ they put in there...”

“Mice and snakes and-” he teased her, chuckling at her disgusted expression.

“Oh, seven hells, _stop it_ , Jon!” she laughed, swatting his arm. “I don't want to know it!”

Dear gods, he wished he could hear her laugh more often. He decided not to ask, not this night nor the next. He would take her where she wanted to go and fret about the consequences later.

* * *

On the twenty-eighth night, he dreamt of her for the first time.

They were sleeping in the forest as they did on those first days of travel, the fire crackling in the silence of the night. He woke up to find her closely hugged to his side, her soft arms around his chest. She was wearing that purple silk dress she had on the day she asked him to escort her, the sheer fabric showing glimpses of the expanse of creamy skin underneath. Her soft breath was tickling his neck, making his hairs stand on end.

He shifted slightly, a moan escaping her plushy lips at his sudden movement. Jon could see her rosy nipples through the fabric, his hand moving to caress them before he could realize what he was doing. She arched under his touch, his name a whisper on her lips, and suddenly there weren't clothes at all, his beautiful Princess gloriously bare under his fingertips, her bright violet eyes watching him trail a path down her stomach, grazing her navel, half-lidded lashes and inviting parted lips and-

Jon woke up, cursing loudly. Groaning, he brought his fisted hands to rub his eyes in frustration. It was completely inappropriate, but he had dreamt about touching her and woke up with an erection. He couldn't have these thoughts, he was a Kingsguard, and he had sworn to serve the King and his family. He could not _lust_ after the King's little sister, for fuck's sake. Standing up, he went to the table at the corner of his room, pouring himself some bitter ale, trying to calm down.

He tried to think about something else, anything else, but his mind always drifted back to the smouldering look she threw him in his dream, to her soft body arching against his touch, seeking more of it...

Cursing again, he went back to bed, forcing his eyes shut. He tried to sleep for several minutes before realizing it was of no use. In his heart a chaotic storm of guilt and resignation brewed as he surrendered. His hand ventured lower, finally relieving him of the ache in his groin.

* * *

They were carefully steeping over a small turrent, forced by caution to keep a slow pace, when they heard the sound of hooves in the distance. Soon, they were approached by three men, dirty and ragged and completely unfriendly.

“Can we do something for you, good sers?” Daenerys asked, a quiver of fear in her voice.

The three crooks eyed her from head to toe, an appreciative, lewd scanning of her body that made Jon's hairs stand in rage.

“Aye. Me thinks some gold will be fine, eh?” the taller of the three answered, showing a glimpse of a wooden tooth amidst his own yellowed ones. Another one, who was clad in a tattered dark green cloak, sniggered at his side. “She pretty, eh? I guess we can have some fun, Lerris. The gods know how long it has been.”

They weren't really considering him, barely throwing an assessing glance at his hooded figure, probably judging him too young and too short to really constitute a problem. _That's your worst mistake, assholes_.

He could see panic rise in Dany's eyes just as his hand flew to the pommel of his sword under the cloak. In a second, he was off his horse and on the guy closest to him, the one who had threatened his Princess, slicing his throat before he could even scream.

“Run, Dany! Run!”

She stilled, purple eyes wide with fear. She looked around, uncertain, then back at him.

He heard Lerris curse, a dagger in hand, his bulky arm grasping Jon by the shoulder.

“What are you waiting for? Run!”

“Jon-”

“I'll find you,” he promised, as he struggled against the man who held him captive.

She finally spurred her horse away, running into the woods.

Thanks to his uncle's training, Jon was quick in disarming the outlaw, but Lerris was a big, sturdy man, and he managed to punch Jon in the face before he could disengage himself and thrust his sword deep into his gut. The third man, the skinnier, shortest one, was riding in the direction Daenerys had gone, and he launched his horse after him, fear making his heart sink.

His horse was faster than that of the brigand, and he was on him soon, a cut of his sword making him fall from his mount.

The man looked up at him, suddenly paralyzed by fear. Jon relished in that look, hatred guiding his actions. "Please, I beg you-"

_You won't touch her, nor anyone else, you bloody piece of scum._

He slayed him with a thrust of his sword, breathing heavily as his blood-lusted mind started to clear up.

_Dany._

He had to find her, and soon. Jumping back on his mount, he spurred the horse in the general direction she ran off, calling her name with increasing desperation.

The woods were thick, moss and undergrowth making difficult to distinguish the traces of hooves. The branches that were torn by the rushing mare helped him a bit, and he carefully rode down the path they indicated, shouting for her to come out.

Anxiety rose in his heart. He had ridden a great way from the place of the attack yet, and he feared he missed her along the way. As he was about to spur his horse back, Jon heard her call his name. Frantically, he went in the direction of her voice, finding the silver-haired princess huddled under a huge rock, her horse half-hidden in the bushes. Relief washed over him, seeing her whole.

"Jon! I was so scared!" Her voice was slight, shoulders trembling and bright violet eyes watery with tears. She looked so vulnerable at that moment, he wanted to scoop her up and absorb all of her fear. He wanted for her to feel safe. "I told you I'd find you, Dany."

She was in his arms before he could properly realize it, and he wasn't at all sure who started the hug first. It didn't really matter, though, as she gripped tightly at him and sobbed against his chest.

“They didn't harm you, didn't they?”

“A few bruises here and there. It's nothing.”

The scarf had come down somewhere along her escape, and he patted her mussed silver hair tenderly, seeking to calm her down. After a while, she leaned back, a wobbly smile on her beautiful face. They looked around, the deep overgrowth concealing their previous path. Clearing his throat, he smiled bashfully at her. "I'm afraid we're lost, my Princess."

Her laugh was as unexpected as the sensation of butterflies fluttering in his stomach at the sweet sound.

* * *

So relieved she was that he came back to her, she couldn't help but fly into his arms when he appeared from the woods, a few cuts on his face and grey eyes full of concern. It was foolish, and improper at best, but he had hugged her back, stroking his palms on her shoulders as she nuzzled her face in his beard. _He's back, he's alive, he promised to find me and he came..._

She had felt so scared her hands still trembled at the memory. Those brutes clearly wanted to harm them, no, to harm _her_ , they didn't spare a glance at Jon until he wielded his sword.

_They hurt him because of me._

He had shrugged that thought off as silly when she told him so, even as a bruise bloomed on his cheek. He winced slightly when she placed careful fingertips on it, assessing its tenderness. Still, at her worried glance, he gave her a sheepish smile - when did she grow so fond of his smile? - and told her “I'm here to protect you, Princess. It's just a few bruises.”

“I- I can't imagine what they would-”

“Daenerys,” he whispered, cupping her cheeks, “I would never let anyone hurt you.”

She nodded, swallowing the lump of guilt that constricted her throat. "I may not be Ser Barristan, but I trained with the best," he laughed, watching her with something akin to devotion in his eyes.

Only in that moment did she truly realized what she did to him.

_Oh gods, Jon..._

He would never see his uncle again, or his lady mother he loved so much. He would be known as a disgraced Kingsguard, as a dishonourable man, and she did it to him. Almost choking on her sudden grief, she closed her eyes, biting back tears.

She felt his arms around her shoulders then, gently pulling her close to him.

He was consoling her, murmuring sweet nothings in her ear. _I ruined him, and he's consoling me._

Biting her lips so hard she felt the taste of blood, Dany abruptly stepped out of the cocoon of his arms, facing away from him, plastering a wobbling fake smile on her face as she started collecting wood for the fire.

For the first time in her life, while he blinked at her with a confused expression, she felt like she may be a truly horrible person.

* * *

They camped in the woods that night, planning to find the road the day after when the sunlight would help them. They started the fire and dined lightly on the provisions Dany had bought at the last inn they had stopped by. It wasn't much, but it would do until they would find someplace to stop by the following day.

She wanted to know how he managed to kill those assholes, and looked at him with bright eyes as he reluctantly told the tale. He wasn't likely to boast about his feats, but there was something in the way she was looking at him that suddenly made him feel proud of it. He had expected her to be squirmish about the most gruesome details, and at first, had tried to leave them out, but she had wanted to know everything. There was a sort of righteous fury in her expression, even as she only commented with "Good" and left that be.

That night, she threw her blankets closer to his than ever before, barely an arm's length away. "Thank you, Jon," she murmured when they settled down to sleep, the campfire illuminating her hair with golden hues.

“It was my duty, my Princess.”

She let out an amused giggle. “Not Dany anymore, _Ser_ Jon?”

He laughed, too, relieved that she was feeling better after the scare of that afternoon. He knew she was stronger than what it seemed. A little soft thing she was, all silver hair and doe amethyst eyes, but there was iron in her spine, fire in her heart. _She could be a Queen, if only she wished_ , he thought.

“Right, Dany,” he chuckled. There was an easy familiarity between them that he could never have dared to wish before the start of their journey. He found he liked it more than anything else, the treacherous thought that there was a part of her that was his, and that only he knew. He was immersed in this reverie when he felt her fingers slip between his, a gentle squeeze of her hand.

He did not dare look at her, but he tightened his grip on her hand nonetheless, the soft feeling sending tingles of warmth up his arm, all the way to his heart.

* * *

"Dany?” he whispered in the dark, wondering if she was still awake.

“Mh-mh?” Her voice was a bit drowsy, but he pushed on regardless.

“I know it's not my place to ask, but... where are we really going?”

She was silent for several moments, almost making him think she was asleep until he heard a throaty sound of distress coming from her.

“Nevermind,” he gulped, “I was out of-”

"I'm so sorry, Jon," she choked out. He froze, not expecting such a strong reaction to his simple query.

“So-sorry?”

He heard the rustles of her blankets, saw her dark silhouette hunching over him, kneeling at his side. Her breathing was heavy as she tried to tame her sobs. She came close to him, sliding under his wools after a moment's hesitation, causing a surge of panic in his chest. “What-what are y-”

Dany hugged him, her soft arms unexpectedly strong around his shoulders. “I'm sorry,” she repeated, sniffling against his neck. “I... I did something terrible to you. I involved you in this, and- and-”

Slowly, very slowly, he let his arms close around her small frame.

“I condemned you, Jon. I was reckless and I condemned you. I should have gone alone, I should-”

“Dany, _no_. Don't say that,” he whispered. His hands were absently stroking her cotton-covered back, thumbs grazing along her spine.

“It's all my fault,” she said, her voice steadying a bit. “But I don't want to marry him, Jon. I don't want it, and I thought that if... if I went to my great-uncle... maybe he would be able to help me.”

“ _Marry?_ Marry who?”

She chuckled, sliding her hands behind his neck. Her blunt nails were scraping lightly on his skin, causing a surge of blood to go to his groin. He shifted discreetly, hoping she wouldn't notice. “You really don't care about the gossips of court, do you?” she asked, sounding amused.

“Is that so terrible?” he teased back.

“Quentyn Martell,” she murmured, shaking her head.

“That arrogant prick?” he asked, surprise evident in his voice.

She laughed, nuzzling her tear-stricken face in his neck. “The one and only.”

They were silent for a long moment, her breath easing down as she relaxed in his arms. “Are you mad at me?” Dany finally broke the silence.

“Why would I be?”

"I dragged you down with me, Jon. I ran away from my family, from the orders of my King, and, and... I took you with me because I was too craven to go alone. But now I realize how selfish-" she sobbed again, clutching tightly against him. "I made you my accomplice, and I condemned you. My brother will be furious, Jon!" She was crying so much her shoulders were shaking because of it, and he only realized the impact of what she had said after a beat or two.

“I- I can't go back to King's Landing, or I would be-”

She whimpered, a moan of anguish on her lips. Her tears had dampened his tunic all the way to his skin. She looked nothing like the icy Princess she made herself be in the first weeks of their journey. She looked like just a young girl. A lonely, scared, vulnerable young girl. Yet there was such strength in the way she bared her guilt to him, in the way she clutched at his shoulders, in the way she took her life in her own hands and changed his own at the same time.

“Well...” he began, cupping her face to make her look at him in the dim light of the fire fighting off the darkness. “King's Landing is the stinkiest city I've ever known,” he chuckled. She scoffed in amusement in between her sobs, and he continued, “I'm sure we can find someplace with a better smell.” He caressed her cheek with his thumb, drying her tears. “Someplace with the scent of lemons of Dorne, maybe. I'm sure you would love it.”

She stilled, eyes widening in shock. “How can you talk like this, Jon? I did this to you. You should hate me-”

“I could never hate you, Dany.”

She raggedly exhaled, still looking at him with wide eyes, then loomed closer until her lips were on his, soft and yielding and salty with tears, yet still the sweetest thing he ever tasted. His hands went to gently cup her face of their own accord, and she made a little sweet noise when he parted her lips with his tongue. She was intoxicating.

“Jon... My Jon...” she moaned, kissing him as her hands raked in between his curls, lightly tugging at the locks in a possessive way that drove him mad with want.

_I may be a fool, but I couldn't ever hope to resist this._

Dany straddled his lap, so tightly bound to him she _must_ have noticed the uncomfortable bulge in his breeches. Her hands were touching his face, his neck, caressing his beard, his lips, sinking into his hair. It was a maddening exploration, but not only that. She was watching at him under half-lidded lashes, her eyes so dark in the shadows they could have resembled his own. Shyness and determination battled in those eyes, the feelings they never spoke about apparent in the tremble of her parted lips. _She's claiming me_ , he realized.

Something powerful made his stomach unknot, and he realized at that moment that he would give everything he had to her. She had already doomed the both of them with her reckless escape, but he couldn't find any bitterness in his heart. She unmade him as a Kingsguard, and now she wished to make something else of him.

He was more than ready for that.

Her lips were on his once more, and he drank her kisses eagerly, hands going to caress her hips, her spine, her thighs.

“Dany...”

“My Jon... My brave knight...” she whispered in between kisses.

Her hands went to unclasp the ties of her dress, slowly, trembling, a shyness in her bashful smile that was so completely alluring he had to close his eyes for a moment to regain his wits.

“You don't have to-”

“I want to,” she said softly.

Groaning, he dived for her lips as his hands explored the inches of skin she bared to him. He palmed the soft round weight of her breasts and observed with fascination as her nipples hardened, the dusky rose peaks tightening under his touch. She moaned, almost shyly, and arched her back to press them further against his hands.

"Gods, Daenerys. You're so beautiful," he whispered before leaning to kiss her breasts, laving his tongue over her nipples in turns, sucking them until she whimpered and cupped his face to turn his attention back to her mouth. "A goddess. Dany, my Dany..." He kissed her lips, her cheek, her neck, savouring the intoxicating taste of her skin, feeling her pulse quicken under his eager lips, her hands roaming on his chest, on his shoulders, on his waist, down to the lacing of his breeches and the rock-hard cock straining underneath. Her soft hand palmed his erection, clumsily stroking it and making him loudly groan. "Oh, Gods-"

Dany's hips were grinding against his, and he reached under her skirts, buckling them up around her waist. He touched her core through the silken smallclothes she wore, finding them damp. She whimpered when he pushed them aside, his fingers grazing against her hot cunt, the delicious sound of her pleasure making his mind go blank.

He had never been with a woman, but he had heard the tales of older men. His fingers parted her folds, the juices coating them as she grinded against his hand. He slowly slipped a finger inside her, her cunt so wet it went in effortlessly, and she moaned against his neck in between feverish kisses, giving him all the reassurance he needed that he was doing something right.

She whimpered when his thumb grazed in circular motions over her nub, stilling in his arms for a second. She tightly clutched at his neck, her breathing erratic and heavy, moaning his name endlessly as her inner walls clenched around his finger. Dany wailed as she came, slumping on him, nuzzling her face in the crook of his neck as she recovered, whining when he retracted his hand. She was so lovely, flushed and panting and watching him shyly with a wobbly, satisfied smile on her face.

She kissed him again, long and slow and so sweet it almost ached.

“Jon...”

She tugged him down with her as she laid on the ground, an inviting gaze as she fumbled with his breeches and smallclothes, tossing the offending garments away and freeing his hungry cock.

“Are you sure?” he asked, swallowing his apprehension.

She nodded, a challenging glint taking over her shyness. He chuckled under his breath, amused at her fierce display, before she grasped his shoulders again and pulled him down to kiss her.

* * *

She didn't know what took her. Looking back, it had been a steady, slow growth of her feelings, to the point she couldn't possibly deny them anymore. Every time she tried to put some space in between him and her terrible guilt, Jon just looked at her with that painfully sweet smile of his, and she could feel her knees going weak in response.

She had confessed her crime to him, and he had consoled her instead of being rightfully angry at her recklessness. He had accepted all of her, and cherished it, bravely facing the doom she had cast upon him, and calming the storm in her heart with soft anthracite eyes. Could he be more perfect?

Her first kiss had the taste of her tears on his soft lips, his tongue soothing away the pain that grasped her heart. Daenerys didn't know much about boys nor kisses, but she recognized the song their explorations sang nonetheless. _This must be what love feels like_.

His hands were trailing softly all over her body as she still recovered from what had been an unexpectedly intense orgasm. She had touched herself, sometimes, but her own explorations of her desires, however pleasant, could not compare with the intensity of his touch, of that blessed mouth on her breasts, of the trembling of his lips as she came around his fingers. There was a memorable feeling to it, something akin to _holiness_ as they finally gave up to what had brewed in their hearts for the last moon turn.

So she laid on the ground, parting her lips in a silent gasp as he stroked the blunt head of his cock against her folds, coating himself with her juices before pushing slowly inside her, a slight sting of pain that he soothed with open-mouthed kisses along her neck, her jaw, on her own moaning mouth. It was torturously slow, her eyes shutting down at the surprising sensation of being stretched over, filled by him, _claimed_ in a most delicious way.

He stilled when he sheathed all of himself into her, and she opened her eyes to find his looking at her, such _love_ in the way Jon observed her expression, like he had been granted something extraordinary, the barest hint of concern as he looked for signs of discomfort. His thumb lovingly grazed her cheek, and he took a deep, unsteady breath before he attacked her mouth again, thrusting his cock back and forth, maddeningly slow at first, his pace gradually picking up.

Jon cradled her face in his hands as they made love under the green canopy of the forest, his fingers digging into her mane of silver hair, blunt nails scraping her scalp as their breathing became erratic, as their mouths slack against each other and their moans covered the crackling of the fire. Her hands went around his shoulders, grasping his neck, sliding up in between his curls, clutching him close to her, so close. "Jon... my brave knight... my love..." Daenerys whispered in between her kisses, relishing in the way her words seemed to further affect him.

She thought she heard her name in his moans, and she kissed him wherever she could reach as he climaxed, pulling out to spill on her belly, his hot seed pooling around her navel.

Jon slumped beside her on the blanket, dipping his panting mouth in the crook of her neck, caressing her hair as he recovered. They laid quietly for a long moment, then he drew away from her, the loss of his warm body against her own making her shiver. Jon rummaged around their satchels until he found some scrap of cloth to clean her up, a sheepish upturn of his lips as he observed the afterglow in her slacked expression.

There was a pinkish smear on the cloth afterwards, and he slightly frowned at the sight. “I didn't hurt you, did I?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head in the negative, relieving his concerned expression. _Oh, Jon_. “Kiss me,” she demanded, already longing for his mouth. He complied with a grin, lips softer on her own now that the frenzied passion had kindled down to a steady warmth of the heart.

“Did you mean it?” he asked after a while, lying down beside her and hugging her close to him.

She couldn't help the amused chuckle that escaped her. “Wasn't my willfulness obvious enough?”

Jon scoffed against her neck, then spoke again, almost shyly, “Well, yes, but... what you called me.” The darkness could barely hide the darkening of his cheeks.

She stilled, remembering how the word _love_ had escaped her lips in the throes of passion. He had heard her, then, and was now looking at her with poorly disguised hope in his dark eyes. Daenerys swallowed, feeling overwhelmed by all that had happened that day for a moment. But what was the point in denying it further? It scared her tremendously, thinking of saying out loud what had been her secret for weeks, but it also filled her with excitement, her heart thumping so loud it felt like it would burst out of her ribcage. "I do, Jon," she finally admitted.

He raggedly exhaled, his lips almost trembling as he kissed her again, deep and soft and overwhelming, eliciting a whimper from her mouth in response. He cradled her face in his hands, his feelings bare on his face for her to see. It was so intense she almost cowered from it, trembling in his hold. “I wasn't daring to hope my feelings would be reciprocated, Dany. I'm just a bastard knight, but-”

She stopped him with a fingertip on his mouth, her expression playful. “Well, I guess my escape made me a disgraced Princess, too, so I would say we fit perfectly together.”

“ _Daenerys_ -”

“Jon. I'm serious,” she reproached him. “I escaped the prospect of a life I didn't want, and I never would have imagined to find _you_ by doing so. I still feel terrible for condemning you to heed the consequences of my choice, but if you're willing to forgive me-"

“I'm all in, Dany.”

She nodded, scooping further closer to him, tucking her head under his chin. “Then it's you and me, Jon. I do not regret it, as long as you don't.”

He stroked her hair, nuzzling his face against her cheek. “We can't go to the Wall, though,” he murmured after a while.

“What? Why not?”

"It would be too dangerous. Your great-uncle is too old and frail to protect you." She sighed against his chest, unable to deny the hard truth. "As much as he would wish to," he continued. "And the Night's Watch would surely do anything in their power to avoid any trouble with the Crown. A run-away Princess and a newly anointed knight are no threat, compared to the risk of having to face the King's armies for hiding his sister. They wouldn't help us."

“You're right,” Daenerys almost sobbed, clutching his tunic as she bit back tears. “We're truly doomed, then.”

Silence stretched in the dark for a long beat. "Maybe not," he finally murmured. "We could go to White Harbor instead. If you've been successful in hiding your plans, then he wouldn't easily imagine you would go that far. He could be looking for you in Dorne, for all we know, maybe they didn't even receive news of your disappearance so far North."

Jon shifted in the blankets, turning to face her again. “We could buy passage on a boat, the first we find that goes to Essos. And then... we improvise. I doubt he would suspect you to end up there.”

She felt herself smile, despite the odds. “Essos. I always wanted to visit it.”

“I heard the Summer Isles are beautiful. And far enough to be considered safe.”

Dany grinned, then, mirroring his hopeful smile.

“Is that a plan, my brave knight?”

"It is if my Princess desires," he smirked against her forehead. “I will do anything I can to make it come true.”

She believed him, she realized. Even as their struggles had just begun, Daenerys let herself surrender to hope. Maybe they were just two foolish children, but she wanted to believe there was something more to it, that _this_ , however reckless, however hard, was how it was meant to be for the two of them.

It felt so right, falling asleep for the first time in his arms, as he quietly sang her nightmares away.


	2. Rhaegar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***warning: long note ahead***
> 
> I didn’t watch last night’s episode, because I didn’t want to witness my worst fears come true. This morning, I learned that my favourite story and characters have, indeed, been utterly ruined by those two fuckers I shall not name.
> 
> I don’t even know how I feel. I won’t watch this episode nor the next, that is my only certainty so far. I feel betrayed, hollow, sad and mad all at once. I wish this season didn’t exist altogether, because not having an ending would be far preferable to the shit one we’ve got. 
> 
> I’m not going to detail exactly why this last season sucks so much, because that’s already been told and analyzed by people far more capable than me at pointing out everything that went wrong.
> 
> I still have a tiny bit of hope regarding the books, if they will ever be published. 
> 
> I’m currently switching between two moods: the "what’s even the point of it all anymore" and the "fuck it, they’re not going to ruin it for me". I don’t know which one will prevail in the end, if I will keep being an active part of this fandom and keep writing better stories than Dumb&Dumber or if I will take down my fics entirely. I’m still debating it. I miss writing, I truly do, and I do think that Daenerys and Jon deserve better, but I can’t even read fics anymore, let alone actually writing them at the moment. It sucks, I don’t want to feel like this, but that’s what I got going on for now.
> 
> So, yeah… consider this a PSA. To all the amazing authors of the fics I usually fangirl about: I’m sorry if I’m not commenting your stories lately. It just hurts too much, but know that it pains me not to be able to read and support all those brilliant fics anymore. To all my amazing readers: well… I can’t make promises, folks. I had ideas, lots of them, I had stories to tell and characters to love, but right now I just feel miserable and I can’t fucking write. I’m sorry if I’m letting you down.
> 
> I might come back to AO3. I might not. I might finish my stories, I might delete them. I don’t know.
> 
> The only thing I know is that it has been a pleasure sharing the hiatus with all of you - oh, if only we knew… if only we could have stayed in that delicious limbo forever - that I love you all and that the friends I’ve made are the only thing I’m not regretting about this whole clusterfuck.
> 
> I had plans for this fic, y'all. I was hoping to transform it into a short multichapter after I was done with my other WIPs, but now I'm not so sure I will ever do it. I might. I might not. Who knows.
> 
> A long while ago already, I wrote a short page that should have ended in a hypothetical second chapter. Since I'm not sure that the second chapter will ever exist and considering that I hate to leave it sitting abandoned on my computer, here it goes. Consider it a short follow-up drabble.

“I need _answers_ , Arthur!” Rhaegar slammed his fist on the wooden desk, making it tremble. Arthur swallowed, surprised at seeing so much anger coming from the usually quiet, collected King.

“My sister has been kidnapped by _your nephew_! And we don't know where she is, how she is! You told me the boy had honour-”

“Rhaegar, listen. I stand by what I said. I don't know if the Princess has been kidnapped, but I _do_ know Jon would never do it.”

“Who did it, then?” he snapped, rage making his hands shake.

Arthur met his eyes defiantly, straightening his posture. “The Princess' room was in order. Some of her clothes and possessions were missing. Do you really think that a kidnapper would waste time in tidying the room of his target?”

“What are you trying to say, now?”

“What if she ran away, Rhaegar? Have you thought of that?”

“Ran... away?” Rhaegar scoffed, disbelieving. “Why would she ever do that? She's barely more than a child, Arthur!”

“Strange. I seem to recall Lyanna wasn't much older when-”

“Leave her away from this,” the King hissed, narrowing his eyes in warning.

“Fine,” Arthur sighed. “We're looking for her, and we'll find her. As for my nephew, he's no kidnapper. I have no idea how he's involved in this, but I am sure he's no threat to the Princess.”

“No idea?” Rhaegar chuckled bitterly. “I can perfectly imagine what happened, Arthur. Your damned nephew wanted her for himself, that's it.”

Arthur's mouth was set in a hard line, his eyes glaring with barely concealed fury. “I already heard this story, my King. It almost torn this country apart.” Moving towards the door, he stopped with his hand on the knob, turning to cast a last glance at Rhaegar's sagged form over his shoulder. “You know better than anyone else how many lives were sacrificed because of that _lie_.”

With that, he left him alone.

Arthur's words hurt more than he cared to admit. Were the Gods punishing him for his sins? Was Lyanna's ghost mocking him from the Heavens?

_Little sister, you had to be the vessel of my condemnation?_

He hid his face in his hands, and wept.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, folks, if you liked it, leave some love. I hate to beg for comments, but I need to know that I'm not shouting into the void if I keep writing and posting my shit here. It means so, so much, especially in this difficult moment for the whole fandom. Lots of love. ❤️❤️❤️

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Don't be a stranger, leave a comment! :)


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